


Malfoy X Potter, Now Everyone Knows

by Eiiri



Series: Harry Potter and the Family Circus [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant to the End of the Second Wizarding War, Christmas, Coming Out, Draco Is a Jerk, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Ginny has no time for Draco's BS, Ginny is a Good Mom, Harry Potter Next Generation, Harry is a Good Dad, Holidays, Homophobic Language, M/M, Secret Relationship, Winter Break, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5644495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco finds out that his younger son, Cirio, is dating Harry Potter's younger son, Albus.  He is not pleased.  Harry doesn't see the problem here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfoy X Potter, Now Everyone Knows

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the Malfoy X Potter subplot of the Harry Potter and the Family Circus series. The first work in the series is a page of genealogies which show the canon-detergence here present.

December, 2019

 

 

The Potter house smelled of cinnamon, spiced cider, and woodsmoke. James, home on break from his fourth year at Hogwarts, took a deep breath and let it out, fogging the cool glass of the window in front of him. Six days to Christmas, three days to the annual cramming of the entire extended family into the Burrow. He could hardly wait.

Outside, the sudden appearance of two dark clad figures on the snow-bright street corner broke him from his revery.

“Oh no,” he breathed, then called, “Dad!”

Draco Malfoy was striding up to their house, face contorted into a livid mask, dragging his younger son, Cirio, by the arm. Harry had hardly made it into the room when the door burst open, admitting Draco, whose mood apparently didn't allow for niceties such as knocking. He shoved Cirio in front of him, making the terrified boy stumble. “Potter, do you know about this?” he demanded, one unruly lock of his shoulder-length hair falling in his face.

“I know you have a son, yes,” Harry said, arms crossed. “Two, in fact.”

Ginny and Lily leaned in from the kitchen just as a wary-looking Albus emerged from upstairs. The moment Cirio spotted Albus, he took a step toward him. “I didn't tell him,” Cirio rushed. “I swear to God I didn't tell him—”

“Shut up!” Draco hissed and yanked his son back by the collar of his shirt.

“Excuse you,” Ginny called sharply. “I have a nasty habit of hexing those who manhandle children in my house. Thought you might like to know.”

Draco released his grip on Cirio's shirt.

Ginny gave a joyless, toothy smile. “And why _exactly_ are you here?”

James glanced between Draco, who was sneering, Cirio, who looked like he might cry, Albus, who looked like he might punch something, his father, who looked baffled and ticked off, and his mother, who was wearing the terrifying kind of angry that almost looked like happy.

“Our sons,” Draco spat, “are _involved_.”

Both Albus and Cirio flinched. Cirio shut his eyes and bit his lip.

Harry blinked then glanced between the two boys. “Oh. Okay.”

James ducked his head and noticed his mother looking at him. She arched an eyebrow at him. He nodded quickly, but subtly. She nodded once in return without the slightest hint of surprise.

“Are you not the slightest bit concerned that they're on track to grow up into benders?” Draco prodded.

“Do not use language like that in my house,” Harry snapped. “And no, not really.”

“I just made cinnamon rolls,” Ginny interjected. “Boys, why don't the three of you come and help Lily taste-test them?”

James beckoned to Albus, who took Cirio's hand firmly and pulled him after James to the kitchen. Harry waited until Ginny had pulled the door shut and leaned against it with her arms crossed before he added, “And they're twelve. How serious can this possibly be?”

“Your _wife_ was in love with you when she was twelve,” Draco pointed out icily.

“No, she was creepily obsessed and hero-worshipping when she was twelve, then she grew out of it and thought I was an idiotic prat for several years, and she was right. _Then_ she fell in love with me.”

“It's true,” Ginny said.

Draco's nose twitched and he glowered. “It's inappropriate.”

Ginny snorted derisively.

“Are you really that bothered by the fact that your son is dating my _son_ ,” Harry asked, “or that _your_ son is dating _my_ son?”

“Yes!” Draco threw his hands up in frustration.

Ginny sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Draco, you're being a bigoted homophobic twat. It's not news to anyone that you're capable of being a bigoted twat, but this is not okay, especially not when it affects my son, which it does.”

“It affects my son, too.”

“Yes, it does,” Harry agreed. “It affects your son very much that you're being hateful. I'd hazard a guess that's why neither of them told us and why he was on the verge of tears a second ago.”

Draco gaped.

“I don't know what you expected when you stormed in here,” Ginny said flatly.

Harry shrugged. “We're the wizarding equivalent of yuppie liberals.”

Draco frowned and said, “I don't know what that means,” at the same moment Ginny indignantly exclaimed, “We are not yuppies!”

“Ginny,” Harry said, “we have money. We're yuppies.”

She frowned. Draco looked baffled, his tirade derailed.

Harry sighed. “Anyway, the point is, no, I'm not upset. Ginny is not upset. You have no damn good reason to be anywhere near this upset. Two second years are dating. It's not the end of the world; Voldemort is not going to spontaneously rise from the actual dead because our sons walk to class holding hands.”

“It's not the holding hands I'm worried about,” Draco muttered.

“They're twelve!” Ginny said. “And they're in different houses. Let me tell you, there are not many places in that castle for inter-house canoodling and twelve year olds do not canoodle very explicitly.”

Draco was silent a long moment.

Ginny reached behind her to turn the doorknob and pushed the door open. “I'm going to get you a cinnamon roll,” she said as she slipped into the kitchen. “You're going to eat it, I'm going to tell both boys—” she glanced pointedly at them where they were sitting at the table to indicate that her words were meant for them “—that I am to be informed if you give Cirio hell over this because I will bat-bogey-hex the living daylights out of you if you do, and you are going to calmly take your son home once you've both finished your cinnamon rolls.” She returned and held a dainty china plate enameled with holly leaves out to Draco, a single perfect pastry sitting in the middle of it. “Okay?”

He hesitated, then accepted the plate and ate.

She grinned. “Good move.” She turned to the kitchen again. “You're welcome here anytime, Cirio. And Albus, dear, once our guests have left, I'd like a word with you.”


End file.
